


Distorted Light

by rosecake



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drugs, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Mind Games, Mirror Universe, Pseudo-Incest, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-22 23:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14319891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake
Summary: Michael is well and truly out of her depth.





	Distorted Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marie_L](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_L/gifts).



The Emperor's audience room started out full of guards, ministers, and other assorted hangers on when Michael first stepped forward to meet her in person.  It didn't stay that way for long.  

Michael tried not to shake as Georgiou stepped forward and put a hand on her face. She'd thought the worst of the shock had been over when she'd first seen her alive again on the viewing screen, but it couldn't compare to seeing her in person.

"Everyone else get out," said the Emperor, her hand still on Michael's face.  

Nearly everyone began moving for the doors immediately on the Emperor's orders, but a few of the guards hesitated. Michael understood their reluctance. She never would have left her Georgiou alone with an old underling recently returned from the dead after years with no contact, not without weeks of solid vetting first.

  
"Emper--" started one of the guards, a vaguely familiar young man that might have had a double image Michael had run into once or twice in her own universe, but the Emperor cut him off before he could get her full title out.

"Leave," she said. Georgiou didn't raise her voice, but her displeasure at having had to repeat herself was clear, and the room was fully empty in seconds.

"I'm not surprised they didn't want to leave you alone with me," said Michael. "I haven't been back for very long. For all they know, I'm an imposter here to assassinate you."

"Plenty of people have waited until I was alone with them to try and assassinate me," said Philippa. "It didn't work out for any of them."

She turned around then, leaving her back open to Michael as if to show just how unafraid she was. Michael sagged, relieved to have the weight of Georgia's stare off her for a moment, and then squared her shoulders again. This was the wrong place to show weakness, even if Georgiou wasn't looking directly at her. Michael didn't know much about the person she had been in this universe, certainly not nearly enough to feel confident trying to impersonate her, but she knew enough to know that the Michael Burnham the Emperor knew hadn't ever shown weakness.

Georgiou walked over to a small table by her chair and poured herself a glass of something clear and unnaturally bright blue. "Take your uniform off," she said, her back still to Michael.

"What?" asked Michael, startled. She'd run through a million different ways this meeting could go in her head on her way over, but it hadn't occurred to her that the Emperor would want to see her with her clothes off in the middle of her audience room.

"I don't usually have to repeat myself, but I suppose this has been a strange week for everyone," said Philippa, turning back around to face Michael. "Strip, Michael. After all, it's not as if I haven't seen you naked before, right?"

Michael fumbled with the unfamiliar clasps of the uniform. She'd had Saru's help putting it on in the first place this morning, and at the time she'd been doing her best to ignore what was happening. That, and it was hard to concentrate with Georgiou staring at her, watching her as she struggled to get out of a uniform that should have been as familiar to her as her own face. But once she got the Imperial trim off removing her jacket and her boots came easier, more naturally. Michael stopped after she slid her pants down and kicked them to the side, already feeling unsettled at how exposed she felt in the wide, empty room. When Georgiou kept looking at her expectantly, Michael peeled off her undershirt too. She left her underwear on, though, and was relieved when Georgiou didn't complain about it.

Georgiou stepped closer then, looking Michael up and down with an intensity that made her want to shudder. Were there marks she was looking for, familiar scars or tattoos that her own version of Michael had?

Georgiou reached for Michael's face again, and this time her fingers traced the line of Michael's jaw before trailing down her her bare neck and then between the valley of her breasts. Her touch was gentle as she skimmed over the black band of Michael's bra and down to her stomach, and Michael relaxed slightly. The Emperor's behavior was still deeply unsettling, but at least her appearance hadn't been found wanting yet.

"You're so soft," said Georgiou, so quietly that Michael wasn't sure if she'd intended to be heard, or if she expected a response.

Either way, Michael had no idea how she was meant to respond to that, so she opted for silence.

"Drink this," said Georgiou, clearly speaking to her this time, holding the glass she'd poured earlier out for Michael to take. She'd only prepared the one glass, and she hadn't had any of it herself. Michael had no idea what it was, but now that it was closer to her face she realized it smelled strongly alcoholic.

Tension knotted in her stomach. She wasn't much for drinking even under the best of circumstances, and certainly not now, when she had no idea what was expected of her. Her position was precarious enough as it was.

"I'd rather not," she said, holding out a hand in what she hoped was a polite enough refusal and hoping that she wouldn't need to come up with some additional excuse. What if the version of herself Georgiou knew had liked alcohol? Was she refusing her own favorite drink without even realizing it?

She didn't have the chance to worry about it for long. Georgiou lashed out with her leg, knocking Michael off balance, and before Michael had a chance to register what was happening she was already on her back. The wind was knocked out of her, leaving her gasping for air. Philippa followed her down, not spilling a drop from her glass as she dropped onto Michael's stomach, pinning Michael securely to the ground between her legs.

Michael's lungs burned as she gasped for air, and Georgiou took advantage of the opening to pour the blue liquid into her open mouth. She sputtered so badly that barely any of it went down her throat, but then Georgiou covered her mouth with her hand and there wasn't anything else for Michael to do but swallow the rest of it down. Michael tried bucking Georgiou off her, more out of shock and panic that out of any logical attempt to free herself, but Georgiou was unyielding. She'd always been strong, much stronger than she looked

It wasn't until Michael stopped struggling that Georgiou removed her hand, finally letting Michael inhale deeply. Georgiou waited resting on Michael's stomach as Michael breathed deeply, trying in vain to ease the burning in her lungs. She ran a hand along Michael's cheek as Michael panted, more unnerved by the sudden shift from gentleness to violence and back to gentleness again as she was by the pain in her chest.

"Look at you," said the Emperor. "You're completely defenseless, aren't you?" Her voice was soft and low, but there was an undercurrent it so blatantly derisive that in that moment Michael couldn't understand how she could have mistaken her for her own Philippa. It didn't matter how much the two looked alike, the core person underneath was too different. "I didn't raise Michael to be so _soft_."

The words hit Michael just as hard as the physical blow had.

"What-" she tried to say, but it was still hard to talk. "What- What was-"

The Emperor ignored her attempts to speak. "You do look like her, I'll give you that," she said, her hands running over Michael's body. "So many of the mannerisms, too, it's almost uncanny. But you're just so soft. So, tell me, what kind of assassin are you meant to be? What makes a person so weak think they can kill the Emperor?"

"I'm not an assassin," said Michael, her voice hoarse and rasping. Her head was reeling, and she was having a difficult time wrapping her head around how badly out of control the situation had gotten in mere minutes. "I'm Michael Burnham."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" asked Georgiou. The Emperor. Her tone was all wrong, too vicious, too imperious where Philippa Georgiou had been the most down to earth woman Michael had ever met.

They looked the same, though, even wore the same understated cologne, and Michael was so dizzy it was getting hard to keep things straight in her head. Georgiou's hand moved to the band of Michael's underwear and Michael shifted, trying to pull away. Everything was getting too twisted up too fast for her to handle. She needed space, she needed time to clear her head, but the Emperor was an unmovable weight pinning her to the ground

"I'm Michael," she said. _You were my Captain, right? Or my Emperor. I was loyal here, wasn't I?_ She wanted to ask, but the words stuck in her mouth, even as a strange, broken part of her desperately wanted to hear that this version of her had been loyal.

Georgiou drummed her fingers against Michael's stomach. She looked thoughtful, and for one bright second Michael thought she might be believed.

"It usually works faster than this, but who knows, maybe you've been brainwashed into believing it yourself," said Georgiou, reaching into her jacket and pulling out a long, rounded metal cylinder.

Michael wondered for a moment what Georgiou was talking about, and then she remembered the blue liquid she'd been forced to drink. "That was... what, some kind of interrogation drug? A truth serum?"

"You're just as clever as the real thing," said Georgiou. She clicked a button on the cylinder in her hand and it started vibrating. Michael tried to pull out from underneath her as Georgiou shifted her weight, pulling Michael's underwear down her legs as she moved, but Georgiou was too fast for her, and too strong. "You'll talk freely more once you're distracted, though."

"What are you-" said Michael, but she was cut off as Georgiou slid the vibrator into her.

Her first thought was that it was far too large for her, even though it hadn't seemed that big in Georgiou's hand. Michael's sexual experimentation had been limited, though, so maybe it was just her own inexperience. Or maybe it was just that Georgiou had set the vibrations as high as they would go. Either way, it was too much, too fast, and Michael wanted it out of her.

"Take it out," she said, hoping she was coherent, hoping the Emperor would listen. "Take it out, please, take it out!"

Instead, Georgiou very slowly and deliberately pushed it in deeper.

"I want to know who you are," said Georgiou, shifting back so that she was sitting directly on Michael's hips. The vibrator was so strong that she must have been able to feel it, too, even with her uniform still on. "And once that serum kicks in, you aren't going to be able to lie to me about it."

"Captain, please," begged Michael.

"I'm not your Captain," snapped Georgiou. "I'm not anyone's Captain. Whoever you are, I'm your _Emperor_."

Michael moaned. She was getting wet in spite of herself, in spite of how deeply wrong everything about this situation was. "You were my Captain," she said, and she hated the way her voice sounded, almost petulant.

Georgiou looked at her, expression unreadable, as Michael writhed in discomfort underneath her. Discomfort and more than a little pleasure, as ashamed as she was to admit it. She wasn't sure if it was something to do with the serum, or the vibrator, or something else, but it was difficult to control herself.

"I'm a version of Michael Burnham," she said, the truth slipping out of her. Her Philippa would have expected better of her. Sarek, too. She was Vulcan raised and a Starfleet officer, and there was no excuse for loosing control of herself like this. Maybe it wouldn't even matter, though, when the truth itself sounded so absurd. "I'm from a different universe. You were my Captain." 

Georgiou didn't respond immediately. She stroked Michael's chest absent-mindedly, as if it was just something to do with her hands while she thought about what Michael had said and Michael trembled underneath her.

Georgiou's touch was enough to overpower even the feeling of the vibrator throbbing deep inside her. Michael bit down on her lip to swallow down a moan that threatened to escape her. The person on top of her might look like Philippa, but she wasn't anything like her, not really. Philippa never would have done something like this to anyone, especially not Michael.

She never would have touched her like this, even if maybe Michael had dreamt about it sometimes.

Michael swallowed those feelings down, and started explaining, in more detail this time. Technical detail, information that she probably shouldn't be sharing with the Emperor of this nightmare world. But something about the drug, or maybe just the circumstances, was leaving her with the need to say something, anything, and going into explicit, unnecessary technical detail about the science behind the drive accident that had lead their version of _Discovery_ here was soothing. Science always had a structure to it, even if it wasn't understood yet, and structure was comforting.

It was a distraction from her feelings, both physical and emotional, and the Emperor let her babble on with it until she'd run out of things to say.

"Sit up," commanded Georgiou after Michael was done talking.

Michael's body obeyed the command before her mind had a chance to process it. The motion shifted the vibrator, and she cried out without meaning to. She reached down to pull the thing out of her, tired and frustrated and ready to be free of it and the indecent reactions it was pulling from her, but Georgiou knocked her hand away. 

"So if you're another Michael, that means there's another me, yes?" asked Georgiou.

Michael wasn't sure if it was a rhetorical question or not. She'd already admitted as much. "Yes," she said, shifting her weight, trying to arrange herself so that the pulsing of the vibrator felt less pressing against her core.

"So where is this other me?" said Georgiou. She pulled pulled Michael forward, so that Michael was practically sitting in her lap.

Michael resisted Georgiou for a second, but there was something bizarrely familiar about the embrace, something she didn't really want to escape from. She relaxed into Georgiou instead, trying to control her breathing, mentally running through every aspect of her Vulcan training for something to help her regain her balance as the mounting sensation between her legs got harder and harder to ignore.

"She died," said Michael, and she'd never really gotten used to saying it out loud, but no prior conversation she'd had about Philippa's death felt nearly as strange as saying it to Philippa's living, breathing mirror image.

If the Emperor found the death of her doppelgänger upsetting, it didn't show on her face. "Ah," she said, stroking Michael's hair. "So you're saying you aren't here to strike me down so she can usurp my place?"

"No," said Michael. The idea hadn't even occurred to her. Her Philippa never would have asked anything like that of her.

"Then why are you here, Michael Burnham?" she said, and when she said Michael's name she really did sound like the old Georgiou, even if only for a moment.

Michael's nerves felt raw. She should be better at this, better at controlling herself, but nothing in her Vulcan upbringing had prepared her for anything that she'd gone through since Binary Stars. She had a reason for being here, and it was because her friends needed information to get home. But that wasn't what she told Georgiou.  "I wanted to see you," she said, the truth spilling out of her.  "I missed you."

"I believe you," said Philippa, and why wouldn't she, when she'd drugged Michael into honesty herself. She slid a hand down between Michael's legs, and that was all it took. It wasn't the vibrator, it was the feeling of Philippa's hand on her clit, pressing into her, that finally set her off. It was horrifying how good it felt, having even just the ghost of the woman she'd loved touch her, enough to make her come even when hadn't wanted any of this in the first place.

Michael choked back a sob and Philippa pulled her closer. "It's okay," she said, rubbing small circles on Michael's back, soothing her like she would a child.

"It was my own fault," said Philippa, once Michael had calmed down enough to stop making noise. "I let you keep too many secrets the first time."

"I don't understand," said Michael quietly, her voice hoarse. She barely trusted herself to speak.

"Hush," said Philippa, but gently, with a certain exasperated fondness that sounded achingly familiar. Michael flinched as Philippa pulled the now still vibrator out of her, the sound of it clattering against the floor ringing uncomfortably loud in her ears. "I let you have your secrets because I thought that was part of letting you grow up. But I made a mistake. All I did was give him a chance to take you from me," she said. "I'll do better this time, though."

"Philippa," said Michael, not sure exactly what she was talking about. Her tone had shifted, but the danger was still there in her voice, made worse by the fact that Michael didn't fully understand it.

"This could be a second chance for both of us," said Philippa.

Michael hadn't wanted to betray Philippa the first time, but she'd still done it, because she'd thought it was what she needed to do to save her friends. But she hadn't really had friends back then. She'd only had a Captain that she'd loved, a Captain that had been her whole world, and then she'd gone and fucked that up spectacularly. She didn't have to make the same choice this time.

The alternative was to betray her friends, though. To betray what Philippa had tried to teach her just to have a shallow copy of her, one that looked and sounded and smelled and felt just like her, but with nothing of her soul.

She let herself relax, go limp and soft in the Emperor's arms.

"That's what I want," she said, and it was the truth. She wanted a second chance to be Philippa's first officer again, even if it wasn't really her Philippa.

But it was a second chance she wasn't going to let herself take.


End file.
